


Confined to Bedrest

by Exonoesis



Series: Assassin's Creed  - 31 Writing Prompts [3]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Caretaking, Gen, Illnesses, One Shot, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:09:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29578668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exonoesis/pseuds/Exonoesis
Summary: Malik has been feeling off the past few days, it slowly dawning on him that he is becoming ill. When Altaïr comes back from a mission – having been in and out several times the past week – Malik blames Altaïr for getting him sick. Altaïr denies blame but when Malik’s sickness begins to get the best of him Altaïr puts aside any sort of contention to help Malik rest and tend to his symptoms.
Series: Assassin's Creed  - 31 Writing Prompts [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1966639
Kudos: 2





	Confined to Bedrest

The wind blew hot across Jerusalem; dry and biting, it scattered sand and dust about with reckless abandon. Reckless, much like someone I knew; and – just as he inevitably would – the dust came tumbling down from above, into the sanctuary of the bureau I headed. Three times I had swept today and no doubt three times more it would take before the storm had passed. 

Carefully I rolled up the map I had been tending to – work worthy of my time and attention – and grabbed the broom I would gladly return to the backroom and never set eyes on again. The solitude was relaxing and conducive to my work, yet it frustratingly meant that every task fell on my already overburdened shoulders.

Reluctantly I forced the sand back out the door, loath to think how much had built up out back; the area was enclosed but without solid roof. I dared a glance, indignant to find my open patio had been transformed into a desert landscape. Yet there was no sense in attempting to clear out the miniature dunes now, not when they would simply be replaced by days end. 

The best I could do was minimize the amount of work for later – shaking out the pillows and carpets; bringing them inside before they got any dirtier. With that task completed the patio even more-so resembled a desert, barren and empty; greatly contrasting how the inside looked with the newly formed pile up against the far wall. 

Finally I shut the door, something I should have done long ago; optimism fooling me into thinking the storm would pass quickly. I didn’t envy my brothers toiling in the sun today, even the short time I had spent outside had brought me to a sweat that the shade could only attempt to alleviate. Taking up post at my desk once more I hoped a drink of water would offer some relief.

The past few days I had felt myself slowing down, the creeping suspicion that I was becoming ill gaining more evidence by the moment. Unyielding heat, exhaustion, a mental haze that simply wouldn’t clear; it was the only explanation – and if I was sick I knew who was to blame. Only one Assassin had frequented my bureau between when I was healthy and now. 

A thud echoed from the back patio; much quieter than any normal man dropping from the rooftop, but distinctly the weight of a person hitting the ground to my trained ears – there he was now.

I had scarcely a moment before the door opened, his voice coming in a serious yet friendly greeting, “Safety and Peace, Malik.” My response in the past would have been harsh – grating like the sands – but he had earned my respect and forgiveness some time ago, “Safety and Peace upon you as well. I see Jerusalem has no shortage of work requiring your talents.”

“Or yours, I take it.” His eyes were as sharp as ever, no doubt my appearance betrayed my weary state to one who was looking for such things. Resting my elbows on the desk I made my vexation known, “it seems more than exhaustion has found its way to me, no doubt you brought some foreign illness here.” Had anyone else accused him in such a manner I doubt they would have gotten the calm reasoning that I did, still his was a defensive retort, “if it were one of my targets harboring an illness would I not be sick?”

He made a fine argument, one I was reluctant to counter as it would imply his resistances were stronger than my own. Praise in any form was something to be limited, lest it go to his head. A fresh rush of heat interrupted my thoughts, a dull headache making its presence known and bringing our banter to an end. With the speed and grace of an Assassin Altaïr made his way around my desk, invading my personal space as only he would dare to. 

Hands that no doubt had ended lives mere moments ago now lay lightly against my neck and forehead. “You’ve a fever, Malik. You need to rest.” No doubt he spoke the truth – and despite the work I had left to do I was in no shape to tend to any of it properly. I nodded in agreement, moving out of his reach and to the nearby inconspicuous wall. Tugging one particular book among many the wall slid open, revealing the backroom which served as my living quarters – and stronghold in case of emergencies.

“Someone must watch over the bureau in my stead.” I half turned to my fellow Assassin, ready to instruct him to flag down one still early in their training. However, he answered before I could continue; without any hesitation, “I will do so, under your command.” I almost smiled at his response, he’d grown much in the time I’d known him. Still, for him to linger in Jerusalem he must have business here, “what of your other obligations?” 

“I have no pressing matters to attend to.”

“Then you do me a great kindness, Altaïr. If you would please extend that kindness by refraining from making a mess in my absence.” He removed his hood, relaxing as he did within these walls, “this bureau is as much my home as any other and I will treat it as such.” I shook my head, playful exasperation playing at my voice, “were it that brought me any comfort.” He chuckled, amused by my jests, “rest, Malik. All will be well under my care.” 

He had stayed many times – overnight on more than one occasion – and hadn’t so much as stirred the air, but it brought me joy to tease him in this way. Retiring to my quarters I easily slid the wall back into place, though had to resist the habit to lock it from within; to do so would disable the mechanism allowing the door to be opened from outside. Were it that Altaïr needed my counsel he would have to rouse me and it would do no good for him to shout through the stonework.

Cast into darkness I was quick to lie down, though was unsure how easily I would sleep with my head pounding as it now was. Fortunately dreams soon took hold of me, fitful and bizarre as they were. Images played before my unconscious mind that I could scarcely comprehend, nonsensical vivid events that one might swear were messages from the divine. If I were being granted prophecies however, they were lost on me, retaining as much as if I were being spoken to in another language.

Slowly I woke, questioning what I had seen and if I was even truly awake now. What I did recognize was that light was pouring in through the open wall panel and I was not alone in the room. Years of training screamed for action – to defend myself from the intruder – yet my body was too tired to answer this call. A hand gripped my shoulder and my heart prepared to be pierced by cold steel. Instead a voice – as sharp as any blade – cut through the silence, “wake up, Malik. This is the final time I’m asking.”

My mind was in a fog, struggling to comprehend anything at all; the first thought that seemed reasonable tumbling out into the room, “Altaïr…? How did you get in here?” It remained too dark to see his face but I could hear the confusion in his tone, “had you meant to lock me out? The mechanism is no secret to me.” Much more slowly than I would have liked the events prior were returning, my intention had been that he could freely enter should the need arise, “my apologies. What is it, Altaïr? Is someone in need of me?”

“You’re the one in need of help, Malik. You’re overheating.”

Only now did a notice the cloth around me damp with sweat, much more than I could remember producing in all my days. For a fleeting moment I wondered if death would yet come for me this night; an intense illness this was. “Can you stand?” It seemed a foolish question; no doubt in my mind I could manage a task so simple. I was the fool, underestimating the physical state overtaking me. Faltering in my step I expected to be met by hard stone, a fitting reward for such arrogance. 

Instead I found a guiding shoulder, stoic and silent yet comforting in its support. Wordlessly I allowed Altaïr to lead, leaning against him as we walked; lest I tempt falling again. There was little I could do but to trust him in this moment; unsure of our destination and harboring an uncharacteristically scarce awareness of our surroundings as I was. Thoughts lapped against the edges of my mind as if waves at sea, the mysteries of the universe unfolding before my eyes before retreating and taking with them every bit of knowledge I had ever known. 

Outside, stars had overtaken the sky but the chill of the night could offer me little. The air was still and I almost welcomed the return of this afternoon’s storm, provided it didn’t bring a deserts worth of sand with it this time. Left to slump against the wall I slowly started to piece together Altaïr’s plan. The scarce appearance of the patio – foreign as it seemed – made the new addition impossible to overlook. My washtub was large enough to sit in comfortably, though took patience and effort to fill; yet here it stood, cool water just below the rim.

I removed my shirt without hesitation, peeling the damp cloth away and tossing it with little care for where it landed. Forgoing any other preparations I climbed into the water. Had I been more careful I was sure not a drop would have left the tub; the amount added appeared carefully calculated. However, my impatience caused water to slosh and no doubt create a muddy mess I would despise cleaning far more than mere loose sand. Later I would care, in this moment all my focus was on the feeling of heat being pulled from my skin, bringing with it some clarity of mind. 

As my senses returned so too did my awareness of Altaïr, sitting beside the tub; ladle in hand. With a steady rhythm he poured the chilled water over my neck and it cascaded down my shoulders; while far from a cure, any return to normalcy felt like a miracle bestowed upon me. Fleetingly, I wondered what would have become of me had Altaïr proceeded to his next mission or had gone along with my plan to fetch another. Would my other brothers have done the same? It was almost a laughable thought; many of them feared me, most with good reason. I was known for being strict, it’s what made me a good Rafiq.

It was our training together, our troubled history, and the long road to reconciliation that gave Altaïr the confidence he had in my presence, despite my rank. Not to say that his rank was anything to disregard, having earned the title of Master Assassin for a second time. While the circumstances were far from favorable, it was still a feat to rise so high only to come crashing to the ground and rise once more. He was a determined and compassionate man; resourceful as well. I doubted I would have thought to cool myself down in this manner.

How strange though we would have seemed were it that anyone else could see us. Surely, none could justify a bath in the dead of night as anything aside from a cruel punishment. Yet, perhaps they wouldn’t have been far from the truth. Though I couldn’t be sure how much time had passed, the relief was slowly being replaced by a dull ache and sleep was clawing at the back of my eyes once more. Altaïr seemed to have sensed my discomfort, abandoning his post to help me stand. The effort it took simply to step onto the stonework was immense, my limbs as if solid rock.

In a swift movement Altaïr removed his robes, slipping the still warm cloth over my head to cover me. I had half a mind to protest, yet I found no words to do so. All that filled my mind was how strange he looked without them; bare-chested and exposed. In another instant I was swept up into his arms, how quickly I had gone from uneasy to indignant, “Altaïr-” He cut me off quickly, attempting to justify his actions, “You shouldn’t walk in your state. Allow me to assist you back to your quarters.”

How like him to offer a service while in the middle of performing it; we were back inside and to my bedside before I could think of a proper objection. Left to take a seat while he separated the damp bedding from the dry, his flurry of movement exhausting to behold. Mustering what strength I had to pull his robes from me I shoved them roughly into his arms when he finally turned to help me to lie down. I could do that much on my own and refused to be utterly helpless. Taking no offense he silently departed and once more I attempted to rest, hoping that it would be light when next I woke.

~~~

Morning came, and with it my usual lucidity; the last lingerings of sleep easily swept aside by thoughts of work left unfinished. Dressing was slow due fatigue and an uncertainty of my limits; I wasn’t so foolish as to think I had made my full recovery just yet. Standing before the hidden door I listened carefully for any sign that there was a guest within the bureau before exposing the chamber; nothing. The scraping of stone broke the silence, my eyes quickly falling upon Altaïr standing vigil behind my desk.

Not one of my scrolls looked to be out of place, though I hadn’t truly expected him to disturb them. “Are you feeling well, Malik?” He stood as he spoke, a sluggishness to him that told me he hadn’t slept. “Well enough to resume my duties” was the most honest response I could give. It was all either of us could ask for, considering the condition I had been in mere hours ago. With a nod he carefully moved past, leaving me a clear path to my desk where I happily took my usual place.

Gathering various projects I mulled over how to spend my time without overexerting myself. This was going to be a precise balancing act for quite awhile and Altaïr wasted no time in adding to my tasks, “a pigeon arrived for you not long ago.” Producing a letter from his robes I took it quickly, only Assassin messages arrived by pigeon and those took highest priority. I read it over several times before letting out a long and heavy sigh. The thought had yet to cross my mind and now I was faced with my friend’s departure. “A summons from the Mentor. You’re to return to Masyaf, Altaïr.”

Altaïr’s expression was unreadable, hints of hesitation in his tone, “Will you require further assistance?” I was bewildered by the implication, surely he wouldn’t have kept the Mentor waiting to keep watch over me. No, he must have been offering to fetch an ally to do so, “I believe the worst has passed. I can handle myself from here.” My fellow Assassin nodded, pulling on his signature hood and straightening his robes before checking his weapons were in order.

“Once again you’ve put me in your debt, Altaïr”

With a smile he moved to the patio door, seemingly waiting for me to join him, “think nothing of it. I’m the one who has a debt to pay. Safety and peace, Malik.”

I rose to my feet, following him out into the sunlight despite the harsh light forcing my eyes to a squint, “you’ve brought me both this day, safety and peace, Altaïr.”

With newfound energy, Altaïr was up the wall and out of sight, my only hope being that tending to me didn’t cause him to falter. I spent far longer than I reasonably should have gazing up through the latticework; blaming it on the sickness I turned my gaze back to the patio. Only now did I notice the pristine condition it was in; not a grain of sand in sight let alone any mud, the carpets and pillows placed exactly as I always kept them.

Sinking into my favorite spot I allowed myself a smile, and a day of relaxation; work could wait just a bit longer.


End file.
